


Not Quite Traditional Learning

by thelookyouredoingthelookagain



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A levels, AU:Different First Meeting, College, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, M/M, Student Sherlock, Teacher John, au: college
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 15:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3814966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelookyouredoingthelookagain/pseuds/thelookyouredoingthelookagain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When John is completing his teacher training, one student catches his attention. John sets out to teach the boy everything he can, but soon A-levels are the last thing on either of their minds.</p><p>(A return to smut this week! This was inspired by a request from 221B_Ladybug. We hope you enjoy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He Doesn't Scare Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [221B_Ladybug](https://archiveofourown.org/users/221B_Ladybug/gifts).



> All works here were produced by two friends in the fandom. One writes as SH and one as John, and we edit together. Our characters are based on the BBC's _Sherlock_ , though we don't mind playing a little loosely with canon and the occasional AU. We have whims and like to follow them. While we like to torture our boys with constant misunderstandings, we know they belong together and we always see to that.
> 
> All posted works are complete, and we hope there will be something for everyone. Please take a look at our other works. Just a note, though, there's pretty much always going to be smut. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst, but always smut. We can't help it: that's just the way we are.
> 
> We plan to add new work each weekend, so please subscribe.
> 
> We also really appreciate the kudos and comments --they mean so much.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

"You have nothing to worry about -- they are just kids. Don't show weakness. And besides, as soon as this class is done, school's over for the day."

John watched Professor Jones with raised brows and tried not to show how silly he thought that sounded. He knew his material and these 'kids' were legal adults. They would either listen or leave. John wasn't going to put up with any nonsense. He followed Jones into the room and raised his hand in a wave as he was introduced. Today he was observing for the feel of being in a real classroom. He couldn't wait to get started. He looked around the room and tried to get a sense of the group. His eyes paused on a boy in the back, his dark curls almost covering eyes that seemed to be boring right into him. John held the gaze for a moment before taking his seat so they could get started. As Jones spoke John watched the class again.  

Sherlock had set his notebook on the desk, opened it and then looked up at the clock. He was already bored. He was closing up his notebook when he noticed the teacher come in with another man behind him. Sherlock opened his notebook again. He wrote the date at the top of the page and looked up to the front of the room, watching the new man who was handsome and . . . well, he was really quite handsome.

Halfway through the lecture Jones stopped and had John come up. At first he was a bit frazzled. He'd been watching the kid in the back again. He referred to his notes, but his hand was shaking a bit from nerves, so he set them back down. He started talking, picking up where Jones had left off, jotting information on the board and announcing that they should write it down since it was important and should be remembered for later. Everyone started writing. The boy in the back did not.

Sherlock watched the new man watching Professor Jones. He realised he must be a student teacher. He looked nervous, his hand was shaking a little. He couldn't decide what to do about this, but felt he should do something. He raised his hand.

John paused and looked over at him. "Yes?"

"How important is this information?" Sherlock asked.

John blinked at him for a moment. "Very important if you want to pass," he said.

"On a scale on 1-10, then, would you say it's a 10?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes," John said.

"Go on," Sherlock said. He held his pen up over his notebook, waiting.

John fought the urge to roll his eyes and continued speaking. He wrote a little bit bigger now. "So you can see better," he told the boy in the back.

Sherlock raised his hand again.

John ignored him for a minute, finished his thought, and then nodded. "Yes?"

"The thing you just wrote . . . what does it mean?" Sherlock asked. 

"Orbitals are the paths of the electrons -- what hold them in place around atoms," John said.

"Could you say that word again, please?" Sherlock asked.

"Orbitals. If you'd let me continue, I'll be discussing it further." John turned back to the board and continued.

Sherlock wrote the word down. This was boring. He closed his eyes for a minute and went into his mind palace where it was more interesting.

John continued his lecture for another half hour before Jones took over again to wrap things up. John sat down and watched that boy in the back. His eyes were closed but John could tell he wasn’t sleeping.

When Sherlock returned, class was over. He got up and walked out, looking over at the new teacher.

Once the room was empty, Professor Jones turned to John. "Well, do you think you can take them over tomorrow?"

"Yes, it wasn't so bad," John said.

"The one in back," Jones said. "It's usually best to just ignore him. Very smart but . . . a bit backwards in terms of social interaction. Most of his . . . behaviour is undoubtedly a cry for attention -- comes from a strange family. Will you be able to handle him, do you think?"

"Of course I will. He doesn't scare me," John said as he packed up his things.


	2. Orbitals

The next day Sherlock arrived in class early, taking his usual seat in back. He took out his notebook and looked at the word 'orbital.' He wondered if the new teacher would be back.

John gave himself a mental pep talk as he walked towards the classroom. He knew his material. The students were all pretty good -- he could handle one troublemaker. Not even a troublemaker. Just enthusiastic. Yes, that sounded better. He went into the room and introduced himself again, pulling out his notes and instructing them to do the same.

Sherlock sat up a bit in his seat. So the new one was going to teach? He raised his hand.

John glanced up at the class and did a double take, raising his brows. "We haven't even started the lesson yet Mr . . .?" he trailed off and waited for him to reveal his name. 

"Holmes," Sherlock said. "I know, I was just wondering how important today's lesson will be. You know, so I can pay the appropriate amount of attention."  
  
"Mr Holmes," John said, moving around the desk and leaning on it. "The funny thing is that further education is not compulsory and you are free to stay or go. If you stay, you will be quiet and learn something. Don't interrupt. Don't make this difficult. The door is there if you think you can't handle that." He smiled a bit sarcastically and went back to the board, starting on orbitals again and the proper order when naming them and counting the electrons on each. 

Sherlock stared at the back of the teacher's head, trying to see inside his brain. What was going on there? He didn't know but he definitely was not going to go before he found out.

John tried to face the board as long as he could, not wanting to deal with any more backtalk from Holmes. When he finally did turn back he found, he'd accidentally been ignoring a couple other students with their hands up. He answered quickly and was glad to see Holmes didn't have his hand up again. He wasn't taking notes, but he also wasn't bothering John or the others. When the class was over and everyone was filing out, John stopped him and waved him over to the desk. "Just a quick word," he said. He'd assigned homework and he could already tell he wasn't going to do it. "What's your full name?"

Sherlock turned when the teacher spoke to him, but he didn't say anything until everyone else was out of the room. "It's Sherlock Holmes," he then said, more quietly than he'd expected to.

"Sherlock Holmes," John said slowly, leaning on the desk again. "Did you understand everything all right today?"

Sherlock looked over at the teacher. Was he making fun of him? "Are you making fun of me?" Sherlock asked.

"No," John said sincerely. He fought the urge to reach out and touch his arm, to reassure him. "I didn't want you to feel like I had silenced you permanently if you had questions. It's just a bit hard to teach when you're being challenged." He smiled softly. 

"I didn't mean to challenge you," Sherlock said and then thought about whether or not that was actually true. He decided it was: unlike how he felt about his usual teacher, Sherlock had nothing against this guy. It wasn't about challenging, really, it was about being bored. "I sometimes find it difficult to focus on certain things, I guess." 

"I was told you're very clever -- is the subject matter moving too slowly for you?" John asked. 

Sherlock was surprised. Most teachers' responses were either plain annoyance or the assumption that he was stupid or annoyance that he was too smart for his own good. "I suppose," Sherlock said. "I do a lot of work on my own and . . . I get bored going over stuff I've already worked on, I guess."

"Well, what if we started meeting before class? I can give you extra work -- stuff ahead in the lesson. While I teach the rest of the class, you can work on that instead." It wasn't a normal thing to do but he knew that a bored student was a disruptive one and he didn't want to have to kick Sherlock out of the class.

"Um, okay," Sherlock said, a bit flustered. "But . . . why would you do that for me?"

"Because I want you to learn. I want you to know that I approve of learning even if it's not quite traditional. There's nothing wrong with that." John smiled, and this time he did pat Sherlock's shoulder. "So how about an hour before class each day?"

"All right," Sherlock said. It was strange. It was strange this teacher was being kind to him. And it was strange he was going along with it. "All right," he repeated.

"Go on now before you're late," John said. He needed to prepare a lesson for Sherlock now -- he was glad his normal lessons were planned out for the next couple weeks so that he could focus.

Sherlock left for his next class, but when he took out his notebook, he went back to his notes from the previous class and looked over them. For some reason, he kept staring at the word orbital and drew circles around it. The day seemed to go a little bit faster and when he got home, he read later into the night than usual, wanting to show the new teacher all he knew.

John worked on the lesson plan well into the night. He made notes and assignments for two weeks' worth of days, the material focusing around what university students would be studying. Every time he thought he might be going too far he remembered Sherlock saying it was moving slow -- that he was bored. He wanted to work, to prove himself. John would give him that. That's what teachers do.

Sherlock had trouble falling to sleep and was up earlier than usual. He didn't know if they were supposed to meet in the classroom, but he didn't know where else to go, so he sat down in his usual spot to wait.


	3. Teacher-Face

The next day John headed for the classroom. As a student teacher he didn't get an office, and he realised he hadn't actually told Sherlock where to go. But he didn't have to worry. Sherlock was waiting for him in his usual seat. "Come on down to the desk," John said, waving his hand and pulling the first set of notes and assignment out of his bag. 

"I'm here," Sherlock said stupidly, getting up and moving his stuff closer to the front. He still wasn't entirely sure why he was going along with this teacher's idea. "What's your name again?"

"John," he said without thinking. "No, Watson. I mean, you have to call me Mr Watson." John lay out the notes and passed them to Sherlock. "Look these over and tell me if there’s anything you don't understand. 

Sherlock looked over the notes. One assignment had to do with something he'd read last night. He smiled a little. "Thanks for these," he said softly. "Thanks for going to all this trouble . . . for me."

John looked up and smiled softly at him. "This is the assignment I have prepared for you. These notes should help. Do you think you can finish it by the end of class?"

"I will, I'm sure of it," Sherlock said, a little embarrassed by his eagerness. Was he just trying to show off or did he want to put this teacher in his place? Or was it something else? He didn't care: he would do it.

"Good. Do you have any questions? We have some time before class starts," John said. He leaned on the desk again, crossing his arms. 

"Do you really want to be a teacher?" Sherlock asked.

John nodded. "I was going to medical school, but I was hurt in the war. Left me with a tremor in my hands." He swallowed hard and shrugged to try to brush it off. The day he was told he could no longer be a surgeon was one of the worst he could remember. But he never talked about it. This was the first time he'd even said it out loud in years. 

"I knew it," Sherlock said. "Can I see it? The tremor, I mean," he added, not entirely sure why.

"It doesn't happen on command," John said. "What do you mean you knew it?" 

"I mean, I knew you didn't really want to be a teacher," Sherlock said.

"How?" John asked, crossing his arms again. 

"I don't know," Sherlock said. "I just . . . could tell. I sometimes can tell things about people. Sorry . . ." He looked down at his notebook. "It's probably why most people don't like me."

"What? Because you're observant?" John asked. He remembered Jones saying that he was odd and now he wondered if this is what he meant. He didn't think it was a bad thing. 

"I am," Sherlock said defensively. "Are you . . . making fun of me again?"

"No. I wasn't the first time," John reminded him. "I was curious. I don't think it's a bad thing."

Sherlock looked up at John. His face looked sincere. "Okay," Sherlock said. "I'll keep quiet about anything else I read." He smiled a little.

"No -- I want to know what else you're reading about me," John smiled. 

"I know you tell the truth," Sherlock said. He looked down at his notebook.

"That's good," John smiled. "What else?"

"That's it for now," Sherlock said. "Despite being an honest person, you're putting on a deliberate teacher-face which is confusing things."

"Teacher-face?" John asked amused. The bell rang then, and he heard students moving through the halls. "Go sit down now." 

Sherlock looked up at him as he quickly grabbed his bag and moved to the back of the room. Somehow it felt like he was in trouble, that he'd done something wrong. Or maybe Mr Watson had. Either way, he didn't say anything else and didn't raise his hand during class. He worked hard on the assignment he'd been given instead and when he left the class, he looked up at John and nodded a little. They didn't have class together on Friday, but Sherlock hoped they could work together again so for the next class, he showed up an hour early again. They worked like this for the next few weeks. Sherlock enjoyed the extra work, but more than that, he enjoyed spending time with John, though he never called him by that name. 

For some reason John was weary of the other students seeing them meeting together. He shouldn't be -- teachers met with students all the time. But there was something different about Sherlock, and he was worried it would be taken the wrong way by others. During his lecture he watched Sherlock working quietly, and he felt happy that he'd been able to find a solution. Even more than that a solution that would allow him to see Sherlock again. But he had to be careful, though he wondered why he worried -- was there a line he was thinking of crossing? No, he just didn't want to make school any more uncomfortable for Sherlock. Or for himself.

Each night before John's class, Sherlock found himself having trouble sleeping. He felt anxious but in a way he enjoyed it. In fact he'd never enjoyed going to school so much.


	4. The Line

After about a month, John's motivation had changed slightly. Professor Jones came in early to the classroom one day. John had been laughing at something Sherlock had said, his hand on Sherlock's arm. He had pulled it away quickly and hoped Jones hadn't noticed it. After that John realised that they were going to have to be even more careful. He didn't want to stop meeting Sherlock. They just had to be smarter about it. At the end of the week he was passing over Sherlock's homework, still holding it when Sherlock tried to pull it closer. 

"We should meet someplace else," John said. "Maybe after your classes so you can be even more focused." Not that Sherlock was doing badly on his assignments, but he didn't want to say precisely what he was thinking. Not here anyways. Sherlock was different than anyone he'd ever met before and despite the risk involved, he wanted to explore that -- to find out as much as he could.

"What? Why? What have I been doing wrong?" Sherlock asked quietly. 

"Nothing," John said quickly, shaking his head. "It's just that I don't have an office and I would like to go over your assignments somewhere more comfortable for both of us, rather than standing over the desk," he said. He licked his lips and glanced down at the assignment he was still holding on to. Once he gave this one to Sherlock, there would be no going back. The last question wasn't about chemistry at all. It was word problem involving two men meeting at a cafe -- the one just outside of town to be exact -- and the answer was the time John would be there. If anyone else found the homework, it would mean nothing to them. But to Sherlock . . . hopefully he would know what it meant. And even more hopefully he wouldn't report John for crossing the line. 

"Okay," Sherlock said. "I'll think about it, but I can still stay in class, right?"

John nodded. "Of course you can," he said. 

Sherlock moved his stuff to the back desk as other students started coming in. He began working on the problem John had set for him. It was a bit confusing since the explanation didn't relate to class. He was able to figure it out quickly, but he wasn't sure what the answer meant. He looked up at John and then remembered what he had said before the class started. When it was time to go, he packed up and hurried out before saying anything else to John.

He rushed back to his room and looked at the problem, or rather the solution. John was inviting him to meet at a cafe tomorrow evening. When John mentioned to studying elsewhere, Sherlock thought he meant in a different room. This felt like a different kind of invitation.

Sherlock stood up and moved to the bathroom. He washed his face and then looked at himself in the mirror. Did John . . . like him? Why?

He didn't have chemistry class the next day, and he didn't try to find John. But he'd decided: he would meet John at the cafe. When he got back to his room, he lay down and tried to relax, but he couldn't really do it. So he took a bath instead. That helped a little. Then he got dressed and headed out to the cafe.

The next day John let Jones teach the only class they had. It wasn't Sherlock's class and not having to teach gave him a good excuse to disappear into his head and think about tonight. No one should see them out there -- it was a bit out of town and most teachers stayed local. No one would know that he was a teacher and that Sherlock was his student. They could be comfortable there. The bell ringing jolted him out of his thoughts. He packed up and hurried back to his flat. He took a shower and wore something new -- something he hadn't worn to class before and probably never would. He fussed his hair a bit and left, his hands balling up in his pockets as he walked to the cafe. He took a table in the back and couldn't stop looking around. Of course there was the chance that Sherlock wouldn't even show up. He picked up his cup of tea, noticing his tremor was quite bad, so he put it back down.

Sherlock got more anxious as he got closer to the cafe. When he got to the corner, he stopped and lit a cigarette, leaning up against the wall to smoke it. Then he turned and went inside the cafe. He saw John and sat at his table. "I came," he said.

John sat up a little straighter, wrapping his hands around the cup filled with tea. "You figured it out," he smiled. 

"I think you knew I would," Sherlock said. "I don't understand why though."

"I think you do," John countered, holding his gaze. He took a quick sip of tea and looked around the cafe. They were the only ones here at the moment. He hoped it stayed that way. 

Sherlock stopped breathing for a minute and then he remembered he needed to, so he did. "Why . . . me?" he asked.

John looked down at his tea and knew that answering this question was the final line to cross. At the moment he could pretend it was about homework. Sherlock's expression showed him that they both knew it wasn't. "You're clever. Funny, smart, handsome . . ." he trailed off at the end, watching Sherlock's face closely.

"But you're my teacher," Sherlock said in a whisper.

John was lifting the cup up for another sip when Sherlock said what he said. He looked around the cafe quickly, his hand shaking as his brain played scenes of him getting fired, sued, arrested. His hand shook. "Well, technically I'm just a student teacher," he said quietly. "And I'm not _that_ much older than you." 

"Is that why we're hiding?" Sherlock asked.

John licked his lips and put the cup down slowly. His fingers clenched and unclenched against the table. "Well, it's still not . . . allowed, exactly. We can both leave right now and pretend this never happened, but I don't think either of us wants to do that."

Sherlock thought for a moment. He _didn't_ want to leave, but he wasn't sure he understood why. Was this just a mystery he wanted to solve? It felt like more like that. "I don't want to leave," he said.

John nodded. "Good. I don't either."

Sherlock looked down at the table. "But . . . I don't know anything about this . . . kind of stuff . . . with anyone," he whispered.

John tilted his head for a moment before he realised what Sherlock meant. "That's okay," John assured him, reaching across the table and touching his hand. "I can help with that." 

Sherlock's skin felt hot when John touched it, and it sent that heat all the way up his arm. "I mean it," Sherlock said. "I know a lot about some things, but not this kind of stuff."

"And I mean it when I say that's okay," John assured him. "We should start meeting here instead of at school. We can still do the assignments and then maybe get dinner and . . . just hang out." As he spoke he ran his fingers over Sherlock's knuckles. 

"But wouldn't you rather . . . have someone your age . . . with more experience?" Sherlock said, his cheeks flushing.

John shook his head. "Experience doesn't matter that much, Sherlock. I told you before why I like you." He glanced at his fingers rubbing Sherlock's knuckles. "Besides, you're smart. You learn fast." He smiled wider and met his gaze. "Don't worry, okay? It's easier than you think." He pulled his hand back and took a long sip of tea. "I'm not only interested in sex, Sherlock. If you feel uncomfortable, just let me know, okay?"

"But you are interested in that?" Sherlock asked.

"Well, yes," John nodded. "And I am sure that you are too even if you've never done it before. Are you? It's okay to talk about it."

"I . . . want to find out," Sherlock said. "But I don't know how . . . what to do."

"Don't worry about that. Like I said, it's easier than you think. And we have time," John said. "No rush."

Sherlock looked over at John's face. He remembered that he had seemed trustworthy that first day -- did he seem that way now? Sherlock was sure he did. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Let me get you a cup of tea, or even something to eat if you'd like, and we can have a proper date," John smiled. 

"Just tea, please, no sugar," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath and tried to relax. It had been awkward that first day with John, but the last few weeks weren't awkward anymore. He watched John get up and move to the counter and return with the tea. "Thank you," Sherlock said.

"Sure," John smiled. "So, the assignments have been going well. You like chemistry a lot, huh?"

"Yes," Sherlock said. "You're too smart to be a teacher."

John smiled at the compliment. "I feel like you're too smart to be a student and yet here we are," he said. "Have you thought about what you want to do after school?" 

"No," Sherlock said. "That doesn't seem worth thinking about to me. I don't . . . know why really. I'm sure I'll figure something out."

"Stick to the things you love. If you make a career out of it, you won't get bored," John smiled. "You'll enjoy yourself."

"I hope I do," Sherlock said. He drank some of his tea. "But you don't love teaching, do you?"

John considered the question for a moment. "I became a doctor to help people, a trauma surgeon for the excitement. I went to war for those same reasons." He looked down at his mug and shrugged. "When I couldn't do that anymore . . . I suppose I felt bitter towards the whole thing. I could be a doctor still but I don't want to right now. But I like helping people. So now I do this. A different kind of helping."

"I'm not sure if I believe you," Sherlock said. "But I might be wrong." He finished his tea. "Is the date over now?" he asked. He hoped it wasn't.

John tilted his head. "No, I mean, unless you want to go home now," he said. "I thought we could go for a walk. Or you could come back to mine for a little bit. We can just watch a film or something." John wanted to kiss Sherlock and knew that couldn't happen here.

"We can go back to your house," Sherlock said. The secret bit -- something normally Sherlock would quite like -- made him a little more anxious than he liked, and he thought he'd feel better if they didn't walk around until he understood precisely what was happening.

"Okay, great," John smiled. He stood and put his coat on, moving to help Sherlock with his before leading the way out. "It's not far from here," he explained. He walked close to Sherlock, occasionally bumping his arm. He was glad the street was practically deserted.  

Sherlock followed John closely. The temperature seemed to have dropped while they were in the cafe. He pulled his scarf tighter and put his hands in his pockets. They walked up to a door, and John unlocked it and led them in.


	5. The Line Is Crossed

"It's small, not much of a place but it's home," he said, turning on the light." You can make yourself at home. I am just going to get the computer so we can find a film." John disappeared into his room for just a minute before coming back. "What sort of films do you like?"

"Are we going to watch porn?" Sherlock asked. He had sat himself down on the corner of the small sofa and hadn't taken his coat off yet.

"What? No, Sherlock." John set the laptop on the coffee table and pulled him up gently. "Can I take your coat?" he asked, pulling it from Sherlock's shoulders. "I mean an actual film. What do you like?"

Sherlock took his coat off and let John take it. He looked around the room. "It's cold in here," he said. "I don't care what kind of movie we watch. Honestly."

John moved to turn the heat up a bit before hooking the laptop to the telly. He put in a random movie, a Bond film it looked like, and moved back to the sofa. He sat down facing Sherlock, taking his hand again and rubbing gently. "I don't want you to be scared, Sherlock."

"I'm not scared," Sherlock said. "I just . . . I just don't know what I'm supposed to do." He didn't pull his hand away from John's and he forced himself to look over at him. "But I'm not scared."

John's eyes wandered over Sherlock's face for a moment before settling on his eyes. "Can I kiss you?" he asked softly, glancing at Sherlock's lips.

"Yes," Sherlock said quietly. He didn't know what to do so he sat perfectly still, waiting for John to kiss him.

John smiled softly, bringing his hand up to hold Sherlock's cheek. He rubbed the high bone with his thumb for a moment before leaning and pressing his mouth gently to Sherlock's. He didn't do anything more but hold it for a few seconds before pulling away. He stayed close, however, holding his gaze. "Okay?"

Suddenly Sherlock's entire body filled with a kind of electricity he had never felt before. "Yes," he said. "Can we again?"

John smiled wider and nodded. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to Sherlock's, moving his lips lightly and tilting his head, encouraging Sherlock to follow his lead.

Sherlock pressed into the kiss this time, and turned John's other hand in his own, squeezing it.

John held his hand back as he slid the other back into Sherlock's curls. He felt warm and kissing Sherlock felt good.

Sherlock could feel a tension building in his body, and he started to feel . . . embarrassed. He usually knew everything -- he usually knew everything that was going to happen. But since meeting John, he no longer felt that way, and suddenly he felt so embarrassed by it all. He pulled back a bit and looked down at the floor, trying to calm the excitement. "Do you do this with other students?" he asked quietly.

John was smiling lightly until Sherlock spoke, making his smile falter. "Sherlock, no," he said. He reached out and took Sherlock's hand again. "I haven't dated in months. This isn't . . . like that." He felt embarrassed about how this must seem to Sherlock. "I really like you and it's just unfortunate that I met you in a position where we have to hide."

Sherlock looked over at John and knew he wasn't lying. "Okay," he said quietly. "Should we try again?" He smoothed his hands on his thighs. "Tell me what I should be doing."

"Whatever feels comfortable," John encouraged. "There's no right or wrong. You try this time," he smiled.

Sherlock took a deep breath and lifted his hand to John's shoulder. He leaned in, tipping his head as John had done earlier, and pressed against John's mouth -- probably a little too hard -- but it felt good and he shifted slightly on the sofa, turning his body more towards John. He slid his hand onto John's back and pressed his chest against John's.

John hummed his approval and put his hands on Sherlock's hips, tugging him closer. He wanted to get closer, to feel Sherlock's weight on him.

Sherlock leaned further against John, pushing him back a little. He could feel . . . his breath caught a little when he realised he could feel himself starting to get hard. He wasn't quite sure what to do.

John felt Sherlock's arousal, his own starting to strain as well. He held Sherlock's hips still, gently grinding against him. "Keep going," he said, dipping to kiss at his neck now. He was careful not to leave a mark.

"Yes," Sherlock said softly, almost moaning. "John . . ." He felt John's body moving against him and he wanted more. "I . . ."  
  
John shivered and the sound of his name coming from those lips. Sherlock had never used his first name until now. "You what?" John asked softly, still rolling his hips.

"I don't want to stop," Sherlock said. "I don't know what to do but I don't want to stop." He kept following John's movements and put his lips against John's neck, pulling him tighter.

John shifted so Sherlock settled better into his lap. "Just keep moving with me," he murmured. He leaned back against the sofa and pulled Sherlock in for another heated kiss.

"It's just . . . it feels good," Sherlock moaned in between kisses. He had no idea what he was doing -- moving his mouth over John's and then to his cheek and neck and back up again. It did feel good; it felt better than anything Sherlock had ever felt before. His whole body was hot and tight with tension. It felt like it had to move or work or just _do something_ for that tension to be released.

"That's good . . . yes," John moaned, praising Sherlock as his orgasm got closer and closer to the edge.

Sherlock kept rolling his hips against John, realising what was happening. He closed his eyes tightly, holding onto John's upper back and pulling him towards him. "It's . . . I think I'm going to . . ." He sucked his breath in sharply as it started happening. "John," he moaned softly, riding the wave of his orgasm before slumping down against John.

John watched Sherlock and felt a flood of heat course through him at the sight. He was so innocent about his orgasm. He was perfect. John thrust up a couple more time before he followed, panting and murmuring Sherlock's name as he held him close.

Sherlock held tightly onto John. He couldn't believe what had just happened to him -- not just his own orgasm but the fact that another person had done the same thing in front of him. He was overwhelmed by it all and didn't know what to say, so he stayed on John's lap, holding him tightly. He didn't know what to do, but John did so Sherlock would just stay like this until John let him know what'd happen next.

As John caught his breath and came back to reality, he rubbed Sherlock's back. "Are you okay?" He was holding on tightly, fighting off the voice telling him Sherlock was probably freaking out, the he might think this was a huge mistake.

"I feel weird . . . I've never done that with anyone," Sherlock said softly. "I hope I did it right . . . I mean, for you," Sherlock said, keeping his mouth close to John's ear.

"You were perfect," he murmured, petting Sherlock's hair and back lightly. "It was so good, Sherlock. You were so good." 

"Are you done with me?" Sherlock asked quietly. "Is this all you wanted me for?"

John clutched him hard and shook his head. "Oh Sherlock . . . no," John murmured. "No. I told you -- I like you."

"What do you want to do? Just this or do you want us to have sex as well?" Sherlock asked. He took a deep breath and moved off John's lap. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to be a bit more grown up about everything.

"I just want to be with you, Sherlock. To do everything," John said, facing him now.

"Will you . . . show me what to do? I don't want to let you down, John."

"Of course, I'll show you." John really liked Sherlock saying his name.

"Do you want me to go home now?" Sherlock asked. He didn't want to but he didn't know how these things were supposed to go.

"You don't have to. Would you like to sleep here with me?" It was good that it was the weekend, and Sherlock didn't have a class to get to in the morning.

"I-I don't have any pajamas," Sherlock said.

The statement made John smile warmly. "You can borrow something of mine -- might be a bit short at the ankles but they should be cozy," he said.

"All right," Sherlock said. He suddenly felt a little nervous again, but he was also excited by all these new experiences. "Can I use the bathroom?"

"Yeah, let me grab some pajamas for you and I'll show you where it is." John went into his room and found a pair of flannel pants and a t shirt. "The bathroom is here, you can shower or whatever you want," he said.

"Okay," Sherlock said. He went into the bathroom and decided to quickly shower off. He slipped into the pajamas as soon as he was dried off and then rinsed his mouth with some water. He looked at himself in the mirror. This was all strange -- good, but still strange, to have so much so new, so fast. But he knew he could leave at any time. He didn't want to. He went back to find John on the sofa.


	6. Sleep

John heard the shower going and he smiled to himself as he cleaned up with a wet cloth in his room. He changed into pajamas himself and went back to the sofa to wait for Sherlock. He smiled when he saw him. "Do you want to properly watch a film or go to bed?"

"Do you think we'll kiss more?" Sherlock asked.

"We could," John nodded. "We can do whatever you want." He patted the seat beside him and started the film over. "I want you to be comfortable -- to do what you like as well."

Sherlock sat down close next to John, maybe too close as he realised once he was there, because he was practically on his lap. But he tried to act like he'd meant to do that. He looked over at the film, which immediately bored him, but he liked thinking that they might kiss again.

John wrapped his arm around Sherlock and tugged him close so they could cuddle while they watched. He turned his head so his lips buried into Sherlock's hair. "Do you like the movie?"

"Kind of," Sherlock lied. "I like when you touch me, though," he added.

John smiled into his hair and kissed his head. "I like that as well. If the movie is boring you we can do something else," he said as he started kissing from Sherlock's temple down to his ear.

Electricity flew through Sherlock's body. "Keep doing that," Sherlock whispered. "But tell me what I should do . . . I want to . . . do something for you, to make you feel good."

"You can do whatever you like, love." John made sure the words were whispered right into his ear, nipping softly at the lobe before tilting Sherlock's head to get at his neck better. He kissed and licked softly.

"Please, John . . . I've never . . . any of this. It's all new. Show me what to do with my hands," Sherlock said desperately.

"Touch me," John said, finding it very difficult not to suck a mark into Sherlock's neck. He tugged the t shirt neckline down and decided to start one where it could be hidden.

Sherlock put a hand on John's thigh and squeezed it. What John was doing to him felt so good -- he wanted to make John feel that good.

"A little higher," John said. "I bet you've done it to yourself -- do that to me."

Sherlock moved his hand rest over John's fly. He let his fingertips close slightly to palm John's hard cock. "I can feel you," he said stupidly and then regretted sounded so stupid. He pressed his hand against him.

John moaned softly and bucked into his hand. "That's because of you . . .because you're so sexy," he said. "You can touch yourself as well. You can show me how good I make you feel."

Sherlock shifted so he was in John's lap again, straddling him. He pressed his hips towards John's, so his hand pressed against John's cock and his own. It was different this time -- even more intimate -- because of the thin material of their pajamas. He let his head drop to the side of John's. He could feel his breath already changing.

"Do you have anything on underneath those pajamas?" John dipped lower to another spot easily hidden, starting a new mark. He wanted to show Sherlock so much, but he knew he needed to be patient.

"There's nothing. I didn't know what else to do," Sherlock said softly. He realised his hips were now rolling against his own hand and John's hips.

John groaned softly and brought his hand down to take over touching Sherlock, feeling his cock through the soft pajamas. "I'm going to put my hand inside, and I'd like you to as well, okay?"

"All right," Sherlock said. He was whispering now, like John was telling him the most private of secrets. He waited for the feel of John's hand around him and then slipped his hand inside John's pajamas to hold him the same way. He worried that John could actually hear his heart, it was pounding so loudly over these new sensations. "No one's ever touched me there."

Heat burst through John at the words, loving that he was the first, that Sherlock trusted him to share this experience. "Get a nice firm grip and move slowly. Tell me what you like . . . what you do," he said.

Sherlock held John and moved his hand on him like he sometimes did on himself. "I do it like this," he whispered. "But I don't do it that much . . . I never thought I'd ever do something like this." He pressed his head against John's again, closing his eyes and just feeling everything that was washing over him.

John mimicked the movement. "Do you like it? Doing this with me?"

"Fuck yes," Sherlock moaned. "Sorry for swearing, sir, I mean, it's just . . . it feels really good." He was stroking John a bit faster now, starting to feel overcome by it all.

"Call me John here," John said, following Sherlock's lead now and stroking faster as well. "I want to show you so many things . . ." he breathed.

Sherlock hitched his breath -- he wanted them all, everything, right this minute. "John," he called. "I can't stand it much longer . . . " He was trying so hard to focus on touching John, but his hips were rocking urgently and it was hard to concentrate.

"Then don't, love. Come for me," John commanded, tilting his head down to look at Sherlock's cock, to watch it happen.

Sherlock had to let go of John and instead pressed his hand hard on to John's chest. He felt his body jerking and then he was coming, and it was even better than the last time until he realised he'd forgotten how to breathe. And when he did breathe, he panted against John.

John pulled his come covered hand and pushed it into his own trousers, finishing quickly as he moaned for Sherlock softly.

"We made a mess," Sherlock said. "I got it on you." He felt too shy to look down.

"That's okay," John said. "I like it."

"I'm sleepy," Sherlock mumbled, crumpling down into John's lap like a baby being held.

"Let's clean up and go to bed, okay? Come on," John said. He helped Sherlock stand and then got up himself, shutting everything off and leading Sherlock to the bathroom. "Take your time, I'll get you another pair of pajamas."

Sherlock almost wished John would carry him -- he felt like he'd never been so sleepy. He used the bathroom and then got a wet flannel to clean himself up. John came to the bathroom door. "Will you help me?" he said, wetting another cloth and handing it to Sherlock.

It was bright in the bathroom, and Sherlock felt strange looking at John, but he had to do what John asked. He ran the cloth over John's belly and then over his cock.

John looked him up and down for a moment and then handed him the pajamas. He helped Sherlock into bed, adjusted the covers around them and pulled him close. "Just rest," he said, kissing the top of his head and petting his hair lightly.

Sherlock curled around John. "I'm sorry I don't know the right things to do," he whispered. "But I'm glad you chose me." He closed his eyes and listened to John's breathing, inhaled his smell.

"Just do what you feel like doing," John said.

Sherlock took another deep breath and let it fill his whole body. He wasn't entirely sure John was right -- from what he's seen and read, sex seemed a bit more complicated than just 'doing whatever you feel like doing' -- but Sherlock was pretty sure John hadn't lied to him yet, so he tried to believe him. "But we can't tell anyone at school, right? That's okay, I just wanted to be sure," he said. 

"No, we can't tell anyone at school," John said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"I understand," Sherlock said. "It's okay. I'm good at secrets." He let his arm rest on John's belly and snuggled his head against his shoulder.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," John said. "I like being with you."

"I like being with you," Sherlock said. "I wish we didn't have to go to school. I wish I could stay here forever." He was pretty sure it was kind of a stupid thing to say and would just remind John of his inexperience, but at the moment, it was precisely what he felt.

John smiled softly. "You and me both, love. I wish we'd met in a different way."

"Are you here the whole school year or just until the end of term?" Sherlock asked.

"Just until the end of term," John said.

"Do you want me to stay away until then or until summer when I'm finished? I don't want you to get in trouble," Sherlock offered, though now that he'd had a taste of what John could offer him, he couldn't imagine waiting that long.

John shook his head. "We'll just have to be careful," he said.

"Do you think we'll do sex?" Sherlock asked, realising too late that that was a relatively dramatic turn for the conversation to take.

John opened his eyes a bit wide and blinked at the ceiling. "Eventually," he said quietly. "Do you want to?"

"I wish we could do it right now," Sherlock said. "I've never done it and now . . . after the other stuff, now I feel more curious. Only because it's you." He pushed his face into John's arm a bit.

"We need to rest now," John said. "We have all weekend, okay?" He liked Sherlock's eagerness.

Sherlock frowned a little, but cuddled up against John. He tried to relax and while he was sure he'd never sleep, he did eventually. He woke up a few times throughout the night, but didn't want to get up -- he didn't want John to think he was snooping around. Which is a little bit what he wanted to do. Eventually he woke up and had to go to the toilet so he slipped out of bed to move to the bathroom, promising himself not to look around at all.

John slept well, turning on his side when Sherlock left the bed but going back to sleep when he returned. He snored softly, his fingers curling unknowingly at the empty bed side while he waited for Sherlock.

When Sherlock returned, he squeezed close to John and looked at him in the dim light from the window. He was so handsome. He put his hand lightly on John's chest and felt his heart. Then he moved his hand quickly and rested it even more lightly between John's legs. He could feel John's cock, which was soft, and then he pulled his hand away and turned so John's body spooned him. He slept soundly until morning.


	7. Something New

John woke up to the feeling of something tickling his face. He shook his head and tried to sleep again, but it was constant and persistent. He opened his eyes properly and was met with a mess of black curls. Oh. He grinned and buried into them, humming softly as he wrapped his arms around Sherlock's waist properly. It all came back to him and he couldn't stop smiling. 

"John," Sherlock said, opening his eyes. "John," he said again and put his hands over John's.

"Hmm?" John hummed against the back of his head. "Sleep okay?"

"Kind of," Sherlock said. "It's strange sleeping in a different bed." He rolled over and faced John, pressing close. "Are you angry that I slept over?"

"No, I asked you to, remember?" John smiled. "I would have been sad if you snuck off in the night. Just relax, okay?" He brought his hand up and tapped Sherlock's nose with his finger. 

"Sorry," Sherlock mumbled. "I just felt weird again . . . not bad, just . . . you know." He looked up at John. "Can I have a kiss?"

"So polite," John smiled, leaning in and kissing Sherlock's mouth lightly. 

Sherlock smiled against the kiss and put his arms around John's lower back. "Do I have to go home now?"

"You don't have to go unless you have something to do," John said. "We can make breakfast and then I can show you something new."

Sherlock smiled. "I don't have anything to do all day," he said. "All weekend actually," he added cheekily. He wondered about the 'something new' and hoped it wasn't chemistry-related.

"How lucky for us," John smiled. "Let me take a quick shower and then I'll make breakfast, okay?"

"You don't need to make breakfast just for me," Sherlock said. He stretched a little. "I feel like brushing my teeth but I didn't bring a toothbrush. Obviously." He looked over at John and smiled.

"I have extra," he smiled. "I'll get one out for you after I take a shower." John got up and didn't bother with clothes, intending to put his pajamas on again after his shower. He found a clean towel and went in, brushing his own teeth and making his shower quick so Sherlock could get in. He left the brush in the packaging and came back to the bedroom. "All yours," he smiled. 

"Thanks," Sherlock said. He went in and brushed his teeth first -- he hoped his breath hadn't been too bad when John kissed him. Then he decided to quickly take another shower, even though he was afraid he was being paranoid about everything. He put the clean pajamas back on. "Can I have a cup of tea?" he asked as he left the bathroom and found John in the kitchen.

"Yes," John nodded, getting the kettle started and finding a couple mugs. "Are you craving anything for breakfast?"

"Not really," Sherlock said honestly. "I don't usually eat much in the morning . . . well, I don't eat much, I guess. Have whatever you normally have . . . I mean, don't do something special just for me."

"I want to," John smiled. He pulled out the carton of eggs to fry some up, making extra in case Sherlock changed his mind. He poured the tea and fixed it how Sherlock liked, sliding the mug over to him. 

Sherlock moved over and grabbed John and gave him a proper kiss. "Hi," he said stupidly, wrapping his arms around his waist.

John grinned and smiled at him. Up at him. It was unfair that Sherlock was so young and yet taller than him. "Hello," he said, wrapping his own arms around Sherlock. "Are you trying to get your surprise early?"

"No," Sherlock said. "I just like kissing you. But I'm ready for the new thing whenever you are." He kissed John's neck.

"Sherlock, keep doing that," John said, tilting his head a bit to make it easier. 

Sherlock kissed John's neck and sucked the skin in gently. He pulled John closer and held one of his hands as he continued to peck and kiss and suck along John's neck.

"Careful about the marks, love," John said as he pulled Sherlock along to the sofa, keeping him close so they wouldn't break contact. 

"Right, sorry," Sherlock said, following after John and almost falling onto him on the sofa. "I want to do everything," he said, even though he was not one hundred per cent sure what everything meant.

"Leave a mark lower so no one can see," he said, petting Sherlock's back. 

Sherlock pulled on John's shirt and kissed lower down, sucking the skin hard into his mouth, almost between his teeth. His hands roamed up and down John's sides.

"Yes," John moaned softly, lacing his fingers into Sherlock's hair. 

"What else . . . tell me," Sherlock said, continuing to kiss and rub him. He could feel himself getting excited in both his body and his brain.

John shook his head. "New rule," he said. "You decide what to do first -- I want to know what you're thinking in that lovely head of yours. Then your lesson."

Sherlock wiggled a bit so he was lying between John's legs. "Take your shirt all the way off," Sherlock said and when John did, he covered his whole chest with kisses. He paused at each nipple, kissing and sucking each a little as his hips moved gently.

John moaned and arched into Sherlock's mouth a bit, feeling Sherlock against his leg. "Switch me," he said, flipping them so he was on top of Sherlock. He pushed his shirt out of the way and kissed his belly, slowly making his way downwards. 

Sherlock shivered a bit from the cold, though inside he felt his body was too warm, too . . . tense, like it had to move. He reached down and touched John's hair, gripping it lightly. "That feels good," he whispered.

John sucked hard at the soft skin of Sherlock's belly, nuzzling it to leave a small mark. The he slipped lower and grazed his teeth over the skin above the elastic of the pajama pants. He tugged them out of the way, continuing the kissing even lower. 

"John," Sherlock said but didn't say anything else. He had an idea what was going to happen and tried to focus not only on what he felt, but what John was doing in case John wanted Sherlock to also do it to him. He looked down at John, kissing and touching him, and it all felt so good. Sherlock had never found pleasures of the body that interesting, but John was changing all of that.

John smiled and continued on, gripping Sherlock's cock and tilting it up while he licked straight up the shaft to the head. He took Sherlock into his mouth.

"God, John," Sherlock called out loudly and sharply -- almost as if it hurt but god, it didn't hurt. It felt good. Sherlock leaned back on the sofa and breathed deeply. He didn't want to ruin it by coming too fast. He tried to concentrate on inhaling and exhaling, but it was hard to look past the warm, wetness of John's mouth. Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut.

John hummed and pulled off again, running his lips over the shaft. "You taste so good, Sherlock."

"Yes, it's good . . ." Sherlock tried to lift his head but he couldn't open his eyes -- he was sure his head and body would explode if he could see what was happening. "I can't believe you'd do this to me . . . it feels so good."  
  
John smiled and took him down again, swallowing around him as he bobbed up and down.

"Am I supposed to . . . you know . . . in your mouth?" Sherlock was sputtering a little trying to keep some control of everything happening to his body and brain.

John nodded around him, swallowing him down all the way now, holding his breath and pressing his nose into the soft hair so his throat would pulse around the head with every swallow.

Sherlock moved his hand to John's shoulder and began to let himself go. His hips rocked a little, pressing into John's mouth, which worried him and then suddenly it didn't matter what he thought, it was happening and his body arched up as his cock jerked and he came.

John pulled back and swallowed around Sherlock, swallowing everything that Sherlock gave him. He moaned softly as he pulled off, cleaning Sherlock's cock.

"John, I'm sorry . . . was that okay?" Sherlock lifted a hand to kind of cover his face as he lay back, trying to catch his breath.

"Perfect, Sherlock. So perfect," John praised, kissing his thigh lightly.

"I can . . . I can try to do it to you," Sherlock said softly.

John was very hard now and really wanted Sherlock's mouth. He sat up. "Move over here," he said, pulling on Sherlock's arm. 

"I've never done it," Sherlock said, even though he knew John must already have figured that out. He pulled up his own pajama bottoms, noting the lack of mess like last night, and tried to think quickly. He got down on the floor and knelt between John's legs. He freed John's cock from his pajamas and held it in his hand, trying to look at it without being too obvious. He leaned over and licked the top of it. It had a taste . . . it was filed away in Sherlock's head so he'd never forget it. He tried kissing it a bit and then licking it more, up and down the length. He put it into his mouth, but couldn't see how it would work to go all the way down like John did, so he sucked on as much as he could, swirling his tongue around it.

"Just go slow," John instructed. He laced his fingers into Sherlock's hair, gazing down at him. "Yes, just like . . ." he breathed.

Sherlock kept moving his mouth up and down John's cock. He liked the feeling of John's hand in his hair. He shifted his legs a little -- he thought he might be getting hard again but didn't even know if that was possible.

"Good . . . so good, Sherlock." John was leaking and he wondered what Sherlock thought of that. "I'm close . . . I don't want you to stop."

Sherlock tried to use his hand on the shaft as his mouth focused on John's tip. He hummed a little, trying to concentrate on maintaining his breathing. "You can . . ." he said softly.

John pet his hair for a second before closing his eyes and letting go, coming hard and moaning for Sherlock.

Sherlock instinctively pulled his head back but then thought to focus on his hand, stroking John through his orgasm, even though he was spilling over his fingers. Sherlock licked his lips and tasted some of John's come. It was okay so he moved back and flicked his tongue a few times on John's tip, tasting more. He let go of John's cock and looked up. "Did I do a good job?" he asked.

John nodded as he panted softly, gazing down at Sherlock. "Amazing," he said. "You were perfect."

"You've made a mess," Sherlock said, smiling a little. He moved up and sat next to John. "Will you kiss me even though I got some on me?"

"I'll always kiss you," he smiled. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Sherlock's, bringing a hand up to hold his neck.

"I like all the things you show me, John," Sherlock said softly. "I want to do more." He curled a little bit into John, holding him tightly.

"Me too, but it's good going slow," John said. "Let me clean up before we settle in." He stood and went to the bathroom, cleaning up quickly so he could get back.

Sherlock waited patiently for John to return. He let himself -- just for a moment -- imagine what it'd be like if he lived here with John. His face flushed when John came back in the room, as if John could read his mind. John sat down next to him and Sherlock lifted his legs, curling onto John's lap. "You're nice to me," he said, pressing a kiss onto John's neck.

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and held him close, humming softly. "You're nice to me, too," he said softly.

Sherlock just sat there, taking in everything he could about John's presence. There was a small part of him that worried that maybe this was all a dream or that once he left John's place, he'd never return, regardless of the things that John was saying. Not because he didn't trust John -- if anything, perhaps he didn't trust himself because this was all so unfamiliar to him.

John rubbed Sherlock's back as they sat there quietly, his mind wandering to how they would have to be in class after this. It would be different -- it'd be so hard to pretend nothing was going on. He just hoped they could keep it in check enough to avoid awkward questions from others. Especially other teachers. 

Sherlock closed his eyes and thought about John's hand on his back, how comforting it was, how it made him feel like John would take care of him -- something he'd never wanted from anyone before. "Do you think . . . do you think you might love me?" he whispered against John's arm.

John's hand paused for one second before continuing the steady up and down motion on his back. They hadn't known each other long enough to know. Then he remembered that this was Sherlock's first time and feeling like that was normal for him. John squeezed him tighter. "Maybe," he murmured. He thought that sounded better than saying he didn't know.

"I've never loved anyone," Sherlock said and decided not to say anymore. Whatever he felt for John was clearly the closest he'd ever felt to love and for now that was good enough.


	8. A Game

Sherlock stayed there for a little longer and then didn't want John to think he was waiting for him to say something else so he sat up and looked over. "What are we going to do with the rest of the day?" he asked.

"Maybe we can play a game or something," he said. 

"A sex game?" Sherlock asked with a mix of nerves and excitement.

"Not everything is about sex, you know." John smiled and moved to look at his face. "But that could be a reward, yes," he nodded. 

"Okay," Sherlock said relaxing a bit. "But you should know -- I usually win games." He smiled cheekily at John. "What do you want to play? No sport-type games, please."

"Hmm . . . a mind game wouldn't be very fair either, genius." John smiled and thought for a moment. "What about a card game?" 

"All right," Sherlock said. "I know a few but you could teach me if I don't know how to play yours. After all, you are my teacher . . . in a number of ways." He smiled.

John smiled. "We're going to keep it simple. Go Fish. Have you played before?"

"No," Sherlock said. "Show me."

"We hold our cards and pair them up. Then we ask each other for the cards we need. We fish if the other doesn't have it. The first one to be rid of their cards wins," John said. 

"Oh, it's like Happy Families," Sherlock said. "I got it. Prepare to lose."

John rolled his eyes playfully and found a deck of cards, dividing them up. "And what sexual pleasure to I get when I win?" 

"Um . . . I could do it with my mouth again," Sherlock said. "Or you could tell me something else to try."

"I like your idea," John nodded. "And if you win, I'll show you something different."

"All right," Sherlock said, blushing a little. They started playing. "You'd better not cheat," he added.

John's mouth fell in mock shock. "I won't!" 

Sherlock laughed a little. "Are we doing best of three or what because as you can see, I'm clearly going to win this one." He held up his hand which was quite full.

"Best of three, and I'll win three-nil." John grinned and started putting pairs down.

"You're cheating," Sherlock said, leaning over and pushing John's arm a little. "Fine, go again."

"I'm not cheating -- put yours down," John said.

Sherlock lay down his pairs.

John looked at his cards. "Do you have a three?"

"Fine," Sherlock said handed it over to him. "I'm out." He was trying not to pout. It was stupid really -- even though he hated losing, this time, regardless of the outcome of the game, something good was going to happen. "Again?" he asked.

John nodded. He dealt the cards after mixing for a bit. He put his pairs down, only one set, and told Sherlock he could go first this time.

"Have you got a jack?" Sherlock asked, eyeing his cards like this was the most important decision in the world.

John smiled and shook his head. "Go fish," he said.

Sherlock picked up a card. "I'm watching you even more closely now, so don't try any tricks," he said smiling. They continued playing, and this time Sherlock won. "All right," he said. "Where's my reward?"

"We're tied now. Want that reward?"

"Um . . . no," Sherlock said. "We should do it properly. Whoever wins this one is the champion." He dealt the cards.

John looked up and looked at his cards. He didn't have a single pair. He watched Sherlock put down almost every card he was holding. When he asked for the ace, John gave it reluctantly. "You cheated," he teased.

"I never cheat, John," Sherlock said a little too emphatically. "Give me my present."  
  
John smiled and stood, taking Sherlock's hand. "Come with me."

Sherlock followed John, starting to feel an excitement in his stomach that began to spread.

John pulled him into the bathroom, shutting the door and kissing Sherlock against it.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John's back and kissed him. He didn't even think about his technique now, he just did it.

"We're going to take a shower," he said, tugging at Sherlock's clothes. "And I am going to suck your cock."

"Oh god," Sherlock said under his breath. There was heat already through his body as he started to pull off his clothes.

"You like that idea?" John asked, taking his own clothes off and starting the water.

"Yes, please," Sherlock said softly. He helped John to take off his own clothes and then slipped a hand between his legs to hold his hardening cock. "Hurry, I'm cold now," he said.

"The water's warm, come on," John said, pulling him into the water.

Sherlock stepped in and the water hit his face first. He lifted his hand and pushed it away. He moved close to John and put his arms around him, giving him a deep kiss.

John kissed back hungrily before dropping to the ground in front of Sherlock. He licked along his shaft to get him harder.  
  
"John, no," Sherlock said suddenly. "I don't like this . . . I don't like . . ." He tried to reach down and pull John up.

"Don't like what? What's wrong?" John asked, looking up at him.

"I don't know," Sherlock said pulling on him. "I like it better when you're by me." He put his arms around him and buried his head in his shoulder. "I'm sorry."

John held him close and rubbed his back. "What do you want to do? You tell me."

"Can we just wash off and go in the bedroom? I'm sorry . . . " Sherlock couldn't think why this had upset him, but it had, seeing John at his feet like that. It was probably stupid, but it had just made his stomach feel funny.

"Of course," John said, standing up again. He looked at Sherlock's face, trying to see what was wrong. "We can just lie down, love. We don't have to do anything."

"I want to do everything," Sherlock said almost like a plea. "I just didn't like it . . . like that. Forget about the game -- I don't care, just please don't tell me we can't do more things."

"We can -- I just got worried about you." John said.

"It's okay," Sherlock said. "I'm okay. Thank you." He lifted his hands to his hair and let the water pour over his face. Then he grabbed some soap and washed himself before giving it to John. He rinsed and then stepped out. "I'm sorry," he said again, when John got out.

"Don't be sorry," John said as he dried off. "Let's go lie down." He took his hand and led him along.

Sherlock followed John, hoping he hadn't ruined everything. He squeezed John's hand.


	9. A Story

John smiled as they climbed into bed. "You won, so tell me what you want. Whatever you want."

"Lie on top of me," Sherlock said, even though he wasn't sure why he wanted that.

John rolled and settled over Sherlock gently.

Sherlock looked up at John. He smiled. "Give me a kiss, please," he said quietly.

John leaned down and kissed Sherlock's lips softly, waiting for Sherlock to decide what happens next.

"Move your body," Sherlock said, wiggling a little. He tried to lift his hips.

John kissed him again and this time he rolled his hips with Sherlock, grinding on top of him and pressing into his body.

"Keep doing that," Sherlock said. He closed his eyes for a moment. He could feel his body getting warm and he was starting to get hard again. "That feels good."

John nodded, going back to kissing his mouth as he moved over Sherlock. He was getting hard himself as he felt Sherlock's pressing into his thigh.

"I like your body," Sherlock moaned softly. "And what it does to mine." He kissed John.

"I like everything about you," John said, kissing along his jaw and back to his mouth.

Sherlock wrapped his arms around John and then rolled them over. He pressed himself up with his arms so he was straddling John's lap. "What should I do?" he asked, moving his mouth to John's neck and sucking the skin.

"This is your reward, love. Anything you want to do, I'm in for." John tilted his bag and rolled his hips up.

Sherlock let all of his body weight rest on John while he thought of what he wanted to do. Then he rolled to John's side and put his hand on John's hip. "Let me use my hand and then we can sleep for a little and you can show me something new when we wake up," Sherlock said, suddenly feeling very comfortable in the bed. He moved his hand to palm John through his pajamas as he pressed his head closer to John's on the pillow.

John pushed into Sherlock's hand and nodded, reaching to palm at Sherlock as well. "That sounds good," he said.

Sherlock pulled on John's pajama bottoms, trying to take them off before slipping off his own. He reached over and held John's cock for a few minutes, before beginning to move his hand over it. He hummed a little at the touch.

"I love your hands," John said.

Sherlock moved closer again and began to suck lightly on John's neck with the occasional kiss to his mouth. He moved his hand -- trying to note changes in John's breathing and movement. He could feel his own heart speeding up and occasionally his hips would move a bit. His cock was hard and needing touching, but he tried to focus on John.

"That feels so good," John moaned, his breath quickening as he moved his hips against Sherlock.

"Your heart's beating fast," Sherlock said before realising it was kind of silly to say. He pressed his hips a bit closer to the action so that he could occasionally feel the movement of his hand and John's body.

"You think?" John smiled, opening his eyes to gaze at Sherlock. He was close, the heat building in his lower belly and groin

"Shush, you're supposed to concentrating," Sherlock said softly.

John closed his eyes and felt Sherlock's hand touching him, pulling the orgasm from his body. He came hard and moaned softly, bucking into Sherlock's hand. 

Sherlock watched John and it was literally the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He held John until his orgasm had passed and then he moved his hand to his own cock and held himself. "That was so sexy," he moaned softly. "Do me."

John opened his eyes. "No," he said. "You do it and let me watch you."

Sherlock wasn't sure about being watched. He tried not to feel uncomfortable. "Okay," he said quietly. He closed his eyes and started to stroke himself. "I'm thinking about what you just did."

"Let me tell you a story," John said, turning on to his side so he could see him better. "I'm going to tell you what to think about."

"Okay," Sherlock whispered.

"I want you to think about my fingers, slick and gentle, touching lower than your cock . . .pushing into your body," John said.

Sherlock did think about that and it was . . . exciting. He'd never thought of anything like that, but it seemed to be working. His grip got a bit firmer, but he wanted to hear more so he didn't speed up his stroke.

"Have you used your fingers before, Sherlock?" John asked, imagining Sherlock touching himself like that in his bed. "You would stretch so nicely around my fingers as I pushed in and out."

"I never have . . ." Sherlock said, but he was picturing what John was saying and he wished he could feel it right now.

"So you'll be a bit tight," John continued. "I'll go slow and before you know it you'll be taking three fingers easily . . . you'll be aching for my cock, Sherlock. Do you think you'll beg me?" He lowered his eyes to Sherlock's hand, biting his lip softly. 

"Please, John," Sherlock moaned. "I want you to do that . . . I want it to be you." He was getting close -- the thoughts making him feel like his whole body was going to explode.

"It's going to feel so good, Sherlock. You're going to be so full and I will be deep inside and it will feel incredible," he continued whispering. 

"John, I'm going to --" Sherlock called but before he could finish the sentence, he came all over his hand. He dropped his head and panted against the pillow. "Fuck," he mumbled.

John watched with slightly widened eyes as Sherlock came, first his cock and then his clenching belly and then his face. He was gorgeous. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around Sherlock. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Will you do that to me one day . . . what you said . . . will you?" Sherlock panted against John's shoulder.

"Yes," John said. "If you want it too, then one day we will," he said. 

"I want to, John," Sherlock said. "Don't treat me like a kid -- I know I want to."

"All right, just not this weekend, okay?"

"Why?" Sherlock said, rolling a little away. "You don't . . . you don't think we should be together, do you?"  
  
"What?" John asked, propping himself on his elbow. "Sherlock, you have to be more patient. We can't do everything in one weekend."

Sherlock turned back to face John. "I'm sorry," he said softly. "I just . . . it's all new and I like it so much. I like you, John. I do. I'm sorry." He scooted closer to him, curling a bit.

"I know, but I don't want you to get overwhelmed. That's why we have to take it slow, okay?" John said quietly, petting his hair. 

"All right," Sherlock said. "But if you change your mind and you're done with me, please tell me so I . . . know." He already knew that his heart would be broken, but it would be a million times worse if he didn't know John's mind had changed.

"I'll never keep anything from you," John said.

"Well then . . . can I ask you something?" Sherlock whispered.

"Anything," John murmured, kissing his head.

"Before when we were just studying together . . . did you know I'd never done . . . you know, sex stuff? Could you tell?"

John shook his head. "Why?"

Sherlock studied John's face, but this time he couldn't tell for sure if he were lying. "I don't know, it doesn't matter. I was just wondering, I guess," he said and then yawned. "It's exhausting being around you," he added, smiling.

"A good exhausting, yeah?" John smiled, settling down beside him. 

"Yeah," Sherlock said. He rolled a bit onto his belly. "Should we have a nap and then when we wake up we can get you some dinner and watch a film or something?"

"Excellent idea," John nodded. He lay down more comfortably and rubbed Sherlock's back until he fell asleep, dozing off himself not long after. It was one of the best days John could remember having, made better by the fact that Sherlock agreed to stay the night again.

Sunday was spent much the same way -- they played games and ate when they felt like it and John watched Sherlock slowly becoming more comfortable with his own body and with John's as well. Sunday night they were on the sofa about to start a film that John had forced Sherlock to pick when a thought suddenly crossed John's mind. "How are you getting to school tomorrow, Sherlock?"

"I usually walk," Sherlock said. He looked down. "But um . . . I'll have to go home first to get some clothes -- I can't really wear your pajamas, can I?"

"Do you need a ride?" John asked, looking down at him. 

"If you could drop me off in town, I'll head home, change and then walk in, okay? That way, you know . . . no one will see us together."

"Yeah, we can do that. You won't be in any trouble?" John asked. 

"No," Sherlock said. "Everything will be fine. But I wish this weekend didn't have to end."  
  
"I'm sorry we'll have to be so different at school," John said. 

"I understand, John, I mean, I know what's happening and why we have to keep it a secret. I know there's nothing wrong with it but that others might see it differently," Sherlock said. "You can trust me."

John tilted his head up and kissed his mouth softly. "You can trust me, too."

When they went to bed, Sherlock made an extra effort to memorise everything about the room, just in case he never came back again. He was almost one hundred per cent sure he would, but he knew he'd regret it if he couldn't remember everything. He curled around John, falling asleep in what was now his favourite place in the world to be.


	10. Back To School

In the morning, though, there was a slightly different feel to everything. It was partly because Sherlock was tired and didn't want to get up and leave, but John was a bit different as well. Sherlock knew it was just because of what they had to face, but it made him resent school even more. John dropped him off and he went home and showered quickly before getting dressed and making it in right as school began.

John found it odd not seeing Sherlock all day on Monday.  As the classes moved from room to room, John came up with some reason to be in the hall, just to catch a glimpse of him, but Sherlock was true to his word and stayed away. That night sleeping alone was harder for John than it had been before. He didn't like it, but was glad that they had class together tomorrow.

On Tuesday morning Jones let John lead the class again and as he stood he looked right at Sherlock, smiling before he started teaching. Normal. They just had to act normal.

Sherlock watched John coming into class, trying to keep his face neutral. He didn't want to feel paranoid but he did -- he felt like he'd done nothing in the last 24 hours except picture what he and John had done together and he was worried it was written all over his face. But when John smiled, Sherlock did as well. Then he looked down at his notebook, listening to John speak and trying to focus on the class. He hoped they could talk together afterwards like they had been before. 

When class was nearing the end, John hoped that Jones wouldn't stay around. He wanted to give Sherlock a new assignment, and he didn't want to stop that just because something was going on between them. Sherlock liked the assignments and John liked watching him learn new things. When he dismissed the students, he took his time putting his things away. Unfortunately so did Jones.

Sherlock packed up his things but didn't get up immediately, trying to wait for the other teacher to leave. When he didn't, Sherlock stood and walked up to the desk. "Anything specific I should be working on, Mr Watson?" he asked quietly.

"Yes, Holmes, I have an assignment for you." John reached into his bag and felt like Jones was staring a hole into him.

"Extra work?" Jones asked, peeking over.

"Yes -- it keeps him busy in class," John said.

"Ah! No wonder you were so well behaved, Mr Holmes," Jones joked. "Have a good day, gentlemen."

John watched him leave as he handed the paper to Sherlock. Then he looked at Sherlock and met his gaze, taking a deep breath.

"Everything's fine, sir," Sherlock said. "Except I . . . well, you know." He hoped John knew how much he was missing him.  He also hoped John knew that however much Sherlock missed him, he'd never do anything to jeopardize things for John. "I'll work on this for tomorrow." He looked once more at John -- and all the memories flashed through his head. He smiled and turned to leave.

John watched Sherlock leave. He wondered if Jones suspected anything. It was stupid to worry -- it was totally normal for a student to talk to a teacher after class -- but John felt paranoid.

Sherlock went straight home to begin John's work. At least it was something -- some connection. He completed the work within a few hours and was both pleased with himself and impressed by John's intelligence. He finished up his work for the rest of his classes; he'd never liked them much anyway and now they, of course, paled in comparison with spending an hour with John in chemistry. Once his course work was done, he concentrated on an experiment he had started before the weekend and tried to focus on that.

When Sherlock woke up Wednesday morning, though, he realised he could barely remember what he'd done since he'd last seen John. Time away from him seemed rather unimportant in many ways. He was early to class, sitting in his usual seat in back. His stomach jumped lightly, not with nerves, but with anticipation -- he just loved being in the same room as John even if they couldn't talk properly or touch or kiss.

In class, John taught mostly to Sherlock, only glancing around the rest of the room occasionally. It was difficult to keep his eyes away from Sherlock. He didn't mean to, but he missed him and he wished they could sneak off just for a little bit. When class was over and everyone was filing out, Jones came close and blocked John's view of the students. "Can I get a little more information about what's going on with the Holmes boy?" 

John dropped the papers he was holding, shaking his head as he looked up. "I don't . . .what do you mean?"

"You're staring a lot, he hangs out after class..."

"Only to get his homework, the extra work, I mean." John felt his stomach flipping nervously and he snatched up his papers to hide the tremor in his hand. "Now that I know more about him, I'm just trying to engage him with the class."

"You're aware of what is and isn't inappropriate?" Jones asked quietly.

"Of course I am. It's just course work, sir," John said, keeping his voice low.

Once Sherlock had packed up, he noticed that Professor Jones was speaking to John. He decided to wait but then he saw John's face but more importantly, he saw John's hand shaking. Sherlock had observed it on the first day John had taught and on the day they met in the cafe. John was anxious. This was not good. He stood up and grabbed his bag, moving up to the desk.

"Excuse me, sir," he said interrupting the two teachers. "Mr Watson, I'm sorry but I won't be able to work outside class anymore. I've got a part time job now, but thank you for all your help. You're a great teacher. Can I ask you one more quick question though?"

Jones looked at Sherlock and said, "Well, I'll leave you to it. When you're finished, can I have a word, Watson?"  
  
"Yes sir," John said, watching him leave. He looked at Sherlock again and gripped the papers.

Sherlock waited until Professor Jones was down the hallway. He reached over and took the papers from John, resting his other hand for just a split second on John's wrist. "It's okay," he whispered. "We're okay." He looked up at John's face.

John's hand stilled, and he looked up at Sherlock in surprise. "Right . . .yes," he said. Nothing helped his tremors, and Sherlock's touch worked like magic.

Sherlock glanced at the door. "Here's the problem I need help on," he reached over and scribbled down a simple maths problem on a piece of paper. "Now you'd better go talk to Mr Jones so you don't get a detention," he added. He smiled at John and then left.


	11. Apart

John stuffed the paper into his jacket pocket, headed to the staffroom and found Jones.  "What's up?" he asked, steadying his voice.

"Your programme called last night -- they want you over at St Joseph's starting next week. Here's the information." He handed John a piece of paper before making sure no one else could hear him. "I didn't request it. You're a fine teacher, John -- no, you're a good teacher. Just be careful . . . in the current climate, teachers can't be too careful, okay?"

"I don't understand . . . why are they making me leave?" John asked, his mind already thinking about Sherlock.

"No one's making you leave. It's just part of your placement -- a term at different schools. You'd have been leaving here soon anyway, but I guess someone's ill at St Joseph's so they need you to start before break," Jones said. "You'll be fine -- I know the head over there and you'll fit in well. I'll write up a good report for you." He reached out John's hand to shake it. "Just remember what I said about being careful, yes?"

"I . . .yes," John said distracted. He looked down at the papers and then went back to the classroom to find Sherlock, but of course he was already gone. John headed for the door, wondering how he was going to tell Sherlock about this. They hadn't even exchanged numbers. 

At home, Sherlock realised John hadn't given him any new work for the night. Even if they couldn't work together in school, Sherlock really hoped John would still set extra studying for him. John made everything about school more tolerable.

John hurried home and thought to try the only thing he could. He logged into the school system and pulled up the student records. He found Sherlock and dialed the number in his file, hoping he would be the one that answered the phone so no one else got involved.

"Holmes residence," a woman's voice answered.

"Can I speak to Sherlock, please?" John asked. Every word out of his mouth sounded odd to him. Was this Sherlock's mother? Did he sound too formal? Too old?

"He doesn't live here anymore," the woman said.

"I-oh. All right," John said, hanging up quickly. He checked Sherlock's record again to see if he had the correct number. He did. There wasn't another one listed. He didn't know how to find him. He couldn't just hang around a school he didn't work at anymore. He hoped Sherlock would understand. He took a deep breath, and started reading about the new school he was going to.

Sherlock spent the evening reading -- the news online, an old textbook his father had given him and then a paper he had started writing that he thought he might one day try to publish. When he was finished, he got into bed. He rolled on his side, imagining what it would be like if John were there with him. He wondered if that would ever happen. He fell asleep to that thought.

John didn't even know what kind of lesson plan to get together because he didn't know where the new class was yet. He went to bed and looked at the other pillow, wishing that Sherlock was there on it. He didn't know what he was going to do tomorrow. He hated this.

Sherlock was early to chemistry class, feeling eager, which he immediately regretted because John wasn't there early and the waiting seemed to last forever. Then the other students started to come in and Sherlock felt disappointed that they wouldn't have a couple of minutes alone. He opened his notebook and got out his pen.

But John didn't come in. Jones did. Nothing was said about John's absence.

Sherlock felt like he couldn't breathe: he knew he could but felt like he couldn't. Once he'd calmed his panic, he thought of two possibilities. The first was that John had got in trouble. This was not good. He wondered if he'd get called to the office, if he'd be asked questions, if he'd be in trouble. He wondered if John would never be able to be a teacher again.

The other option was also not good. John had lied about the things he'd said, if he'd lied about Sherlock being different, important. Maybe John had just moved on to another school and would pick a boy there to study and do other things with.   
  
Sherlock made it through the class and walked straight out of the building and home, before falling onto his bed and crying.

John could hardly focus on his class. He hated these students and he wanted to see Sherlock again. He made mistakes. He blamed it on being disoriented from the switch so suddenly. When he went home he sat at the computer starting at Sherlock's home number. _He doesn't live here anymore._ Why not? Had he been thrown out? Where did he live? John would never forgive himself for not getting Sherlock's number. He went to bed that night feeling awful -- hollow and sad. He missed Sherlock.

Sherlock fell asleep early, but woke up in the middle of the night. He took out all the things John had given him and just looked at them. For a few moments, he actually considered getting dressed and walking all the way over to John's flat. But what if John really had finished with him -- he'd look so immature and stupid. Sherlock couldn't risk it. He made himself a cup of tea and drank it before trying to sleep again. He couldn't so he reached for his phone, turned off his alarm and decided to skip college on Friday. Eventually he fell back to sleep.

The next day in class John was letting the other teacher lead, taking notes and trying to focus. If he didn't see Sherlock this weekend he was going to the college to find him. He'd claim he forgot something, make some excuse to go see him. At the end of the day he hadn't paid too much attention and he promised himself to make a proper lesson plan for next week.


	12. Together

When Sherlock woke up in the late afternoon, he forced himself to shower. He stared at his face in the mirror. It looked sad. Now, of course, he knew he was sad, but he could read his sadness on his face. Because he could read faces. And when he'd read John's, he known John was trustworthy. So all those things John had said -- he must have meant them, right? God he hoped so. He thought about the problem he'd given John and wondered if he'd worked it out. He decided to risk it. If John didn't want to see him anymore, he wouldn't show up and Sherlock would know it was over. He got dressed and headed to the cafe.

When John got home, he emptied his bag and tried to clean the old stuff out. As he threw papers out he paused, looking at the one Sherlock had given him. He looked at the problem and sat down to solve it. He stared at the answer. A date and a time. John gasped and sprung up from the chair, grabbing his coat and running out.

When John arrived at the cafe he realised he was actually too early. But that was okay because now there would be a low chance of missing Sherlock. If he showed up. God, John hoped he showed up. He was probably angry and confused and John didn't blame him at all. He held his tea but didn't drink it, his hand opening and closing around the cup, looking up at every small sound and movement. 

Sherlock slowly approached the cafe, trying to get an angle to see in the window without being seen. But he couldn't so he smoked a quick cigarette. He looked at his watch. It was quarter til. He would wait one hour and then that'd be that and he would know the truth. He threw his cigarette into the street and walked to the door. 

He saw John's face. Thank god. He hadn't thought in advance how he'd handle it if John had come so without thinking, he rushed towards John's table, bent down and hugged him. "I was so worried," he said into John's coat.

John hugged Sherlock too hard and practically pulled him into his lap. "They moved me and I have no way to tell you," John said into his hair. His chest felt like it was going to burst with happiness.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Sherlock said as if he hadn’t heard any of the second half of John's sentence.

"I was told Wednesday afternoon that I had to go right away because someone was out sick. I didn't know how to contact you and I couldn't hang around the school. I even tried the number in your records," John said. "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. I tried."

"You called my parents? What did you tell them?" Sherlock moved to the chair and then pulled it a bit closer to John's. 

"I just asked to speak to you. When she said you didn't live there anymore, I just hung up. I didn't know how else to find you," John said. He reached out and took Sherlock's hand. He couldn't stop touching him. 

"Take me home, John," Sherlock said, squeezing his hand. "We can talk more at your place, just please . . . can we go?"

"Yes," John said easily, loving the fact that Sherlock had called it home. He stood and pulled Sherlock along, walking back to his flat quickly. "You must have thought the most awful things about me." 

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock said even though he knew it did. But they could talk about all that later. He just wanted to get his body close to John's, to let John hold him.

John unlocked the door and hurried inside, still tugging Sherlock along behind him. The second the door closed he turned and kissed his mouth hard. 

Sherlock pulled on John, dragging him to the bedroom. They fell onto the bed and Sherlock wrapped himself around John. "Please . . ." he said. "I was so sad."  
  
John held him tightly and tried to bury into him at the same time. "I'm sorry, Sherlock," he said softly.

"It doesn't matter," Sherlock mumbled, squeezing his face into John's shoulder. He realised he was crying and he didn't want John to see. He worried it was too much, too childish, but he couldn't stop himself.

"Shh," John said, his chest feeling tight now. He rubbed Sherlock's back softly.  "I would have found you again," he whispered.

Sherlock let his tears go. "I was worried . . . you were done with me," he cried.

"I meant everything I said, Sherlock. I love you," John said.

Sherlock looked up at John. "Do you? You don't have to say that -- don't say that," he said, wiping his face a bit. "I'm sorry for . . . this is just all so new and I didn't know what to think." He rested his head on John's shoulder again. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"Are you going to say it?" John asked.

"I don't know," Sherlock said, curling even closer into him. He wanted to say because he thought he did love John, but he wasn't sure what to say. They lay there quietly for a few moments, Sherlock just allowing himself to be held by John. It was so comforting, so unusual -- there was no logic to it really -- but it was so true. Eventually he quietly said, "I missed touching you."

"I missed touching you too," John said.

"And kissing you," Sherlock said as he rolled a bit to his stomach and pushed himself up a little. He stroked John's face lightly as he admired and memorised it.

John smiled as he gazed up at Sherlock. "Kiss me now, then," he said.

Sherlock leaned in and softly kissed John's mouth, letting his hand slip around John's head and into his hair. He scooted up a bit so he was almost lying on top of him.

John guided Sherlock's body over his own, arching up to press against him as the kiss deepened.

"I just want to be with you, John," Sherlock said. "I know it's complicated, but I don't want to be away from you ever." He leaned in to kiss him again.

"Now that I've left, it'll be easier," John said, kissing along his neck.

Sherlock couldn't really imagine what things would be like, but he decided to turn off any worry for a little while and just get lost in all the feelings of being back with John. He squeezed his arms around John's body, holding him tightly and enjoying John's mouth on his neck.

John flipped them slowly and straddled Sherlock's hips, continuing his way down Sherlock's neck. "Let's get some of these clothes off."

Sherlock lay back and let John unbutton his shirt. He watched John's face. He did love John and wanted John to love him.

John watched closely as each inch of Sherlock's skin was exposed. He saw the remains of the mark he'd left on Sherlock's abdomen. He didn't even pull the shirt off completely, just pushed it out of his way and set to work with his mouth again. He sucked and kissed the exposed skin, licking over Sherlock's nipples as he made his way down. He couldn't get enough.

"Don't stop," Sherlock moaned softly.

"Wouldn't dream of it," John murmured, nipping at his belly as he kissed there.

"I want everything with you," Sherlock whispered.

"I'll give you anything you want," John said, sitting up to take off Sherlock's trousers. Then he pulled off Sherlock's shirt, admiring his body as he lay stretched out on the bed. 

Sherlock wiggled a bit as John took off his clothes. He felt a little shy but the relief of being with John again was so much stronger. "What are you doing to do?" he asked quietly.

"I'm going to put my fingers inside you," he said against Sherlock's skin.

Sherlock made a little noise and then said, "Is it going to hurt?"

John stretched over and got the lube, coming back between Sherlock's legs. "Maybe a little, but you keep talking to me, okay?"

"All right," Sherlock said. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He moved one hand to hold John's arm. "I'm okay . . . I want to do this."

John smiled. He poured a bit of lube and started rubbing slowly, gently pushing his finger into Sherlock's entrance.

Sherlock moved a hand and held his own cock. "Can I . . . do this?" he asked.

"Of course," John said, moving his finger slowly.

Sherlock didn't really move his hand much, but he could feel himself getting hotter and harder as John's finger moved. "Can you . . .kiss me?" he asked, looking up at John's face.

John nodded and moved to lean over him, kissing his mouth with purpose. He slipped in a second finger while Sherlock was distracted.

"Thank you," Sherlock said softly. "It feels good . . . what you're doing. Do you like doing it?"

John nodded, pressing kisses anywhere he could -- Sherlock's lips, cheeks, jaw, everywhere. "Do you feel okay?"

Sherlock pulled his legs apart a little more and took another deep breath. "I'm okay," he said. He closed his eyes and concentrated on John's movements.

John moved down and sucked Sherlock's cock into his mouth, bobbing slowly as he added a third finger, properly opening Sherlock.

"God, John," Sherlock moaned as he moved his hand to John's cheek. "God, it feels good . . ." It was close to overwhelming all the sensations, so new and just so good. Sherlock could feel that his face was hot and damp. He gripped the sheet with his other hand.

John pulled up and slowly pulled his fingers out of Sherlock. He stretched up for a condom and kissed his mouth again before rolling it on and lining up. "Tell me if it hurts," he said, pushing forward and entering him slowly. He was so tight and hot and John had never felt anything better. He loved knowing he was the first. 

Sherlock tried to relax his body, but it did hurt a little. "It hurts a little," he said softly. "Stop, but just for a second." He squeezed shut his eyes. "I don't want to stop," he said. "Just wait a second until . . . I'm used to it."

John looked up and stopped moving. "Just relax, love." He spoke quietly and his hand rubbed Sherlock's thigh gently. 

"Do you like doing it?" Sherlock asked softly. "Does it feel good for you?"  
  
"You feel fantastic, Sherlock," John assured him.

Sherlock steadied himself. "Okay, keep going now but . . . can you come closer to me and kiss me while you're doing it?"

John nodded. "Just a minute," he said. He finished filling Sherlock, pausing for moment to feel his tightness around him. Then he leaned down to kiss him, beginning to move his hips as he did.

"It just feels . . . ," Sherlock couldn't find the right words. His voice was different and he was panting lightly with each of John's movements. There was a part of him that was kind of embarrassed by how he was reacting, but he realised this moment -- his first time -- would never happen again, so he tried to just do and say whatever came to his head. He kissed John's mouth and rested his hands on John's hips. "The movement is good," he said quietly.

John kissed Sherlock's mouth again and moved a bit more fluidly.

It felt better now, smoother, and Sherlock realised he liked it. It felt good -- it felt good to be this close to John, to have John closer than anyone else had ever been. He tried to say something but his breath was changing and he gripped John's hips, helping them rock a little, as his own began to do. Then he moved one hand over to hold his own cock and suddenly he was overwhelmed again by all the different kinds of pleasure his body was feeling. "God . . ." he moaned quietly.

"That's right, love . . . show me how good it feels," John said. "Move with me." Sherlock was so tight that John was getting a bit overwhelmed himself.

"It does, John," Sherlock huffed in between quick breaths. His hand started to stroke his cock firmly. "Oh god, John, it's . . . so much. . ." 

John kissed his mouth again, saying encouragements between soft moans and grunts. He wanted Sherlock to come, to feel him squeeze around him.  

Sherlock could feel what had become a familiar urge -- he was close. "John, I can't . . ." he called, his hand pumping fast. He squeezed close his eyes and then he was coming and it felt different -- it felt like it was in his whole body. Tension then release. He panted under John, trying to catch his breath.

John whimpered at the sight of Sherlock coming undone like that, pulling him further into his body. John let himself go, pumping hard into him, and his orgasm followed not long after, buried deep into Sherlock as he called out for him. It took everything in him not to collapse over Sherlock. He pulled out gently and fell to the side, pulling Sherlock close to him.

John's final movements were a bit harder and Sherlock felt the bed move underneath him. It was like John's orgasm passed through both of them and as soon as John moved over, Sherlock curled around him and slid his arm over his stomach and pulled himself closer. "We did it, John," Sherlock whispered. "I mean, was it . . . is it okay that we actually did it?"

John nodded. "Do you feel okay that we did it?" he asked softly, holding Sherlock close and petting his hair. 

"Yes," Sherlock said, looking up and giving John a kiss. "I liked it and now I'll always have this to remember."

"Do you know what else it means, Sherlock?" John asked, pulling him even closer.

Sherlock shook his head against John's hand.

"It means you'll always be mine, Sherlock," John said. "No matter what."


End file.
